


The Angel of Britain

by ShipsAreWorthYourPain



Category: Phantom of the Opera (2004), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Falling in love doesn't require actual meetings, Hearing Voices, M/M, Possessive Mycroft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-02-09 19:30:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1995144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShipsAreWorthYourPain/pseuds/ShipsAreWorthYourPain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg Lestrade has been hearing a voice, an Angel helping him solving cases but he has never expected it to be the British Government... Mystrade! and Johnlock in the background.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I am French so be so kind as to excuse or bring to my attention any mistakes I have made. Don't read this if you don't like Mystrade. Rate T because some torture scenes might happen later (not detailed in any kind, but better to prevent any complaints).

Greg had just arrived to the Yard. He was a simple police officer, but it had always been his dream to work in this emblematic place, and there he was… Right in front of the New Scotland Yard. That was fucking amazing, he thought. He was hardly realizing his efforts had paid and he was assigned to a job he wouldn't have dreamt of a few months ago… The simplistic task of obeying the orders of the DS in place was still a great honour to him, and he wouldn't have exchanged his place for any other commanding officer post in the world, as long as it was not in the famous and exciting place called Scotland Yard. He quickly texted his brother, sending him a picture of the place: "Told you I would make it, silly brother". David was going to be so happy for him. He hadn't told anyone yet, lest it should reveal to be a mistake, after all, why had he been chosen? He completed his duties well enough at his former office, with the paperwork and the true work, but he had only been working in a suburb of Northern London, nothing that impressive.

 

Suddenly getting back to reality, Greg stepped into his new workplace and got to the office of his superior. He was soon assigned a few basic tasks, obviously to test him.


	2. Greg meets an angel

Months, years later, nothing had really changed. He was becoming acquainted with the system of the Yard, and was still absolutely proud of working there, now as a Detective Sergeant. They were currently working on a case of rapt, and evidences were hard to collect and put together. The DI seemed at a loss, and the whole staff was secretly thinking they had come to a dead end. Greg was staying late that night, worrying and trying to get things to make sense into his mind. He had closed his eyes, and he was clenching his fists, frustrated, when he heard a voice, slightly mocking:

 

"Well, Greg, staying late tonight? You know supplement hours shall not be paid…"

 

It was a posh yet amused voice, one he had never heard before. Greg had thought the office was empty at that hour… He looked at his watch: 00.15 am. Not a proper hour to hang about in the Yard, especially when the DI himself was gone.

 

"Donovan, is it you?" he barked.

 

Receiving no answer, he called again, slightly annoyed

 

"Anderson? Dimmock? Who is silly enough to spy on me? Nothing interesting to see, really…"

 

The voice answered, and Greg noticed it was coming from the micro of the CCTV

 

"Haven't you ever been told it is not polite to insult people you haven't ever met?" Still the hue of mockery, of gentle and warm mockery was there. "Besides, I think it is most interesting to spy on you…" Wait, was there an innuendo there or was he getting mad?

 

"How would you know?" Greg entered the game

 

"Because I am the Angel of Britain…"

 

"Really? And how is it you're called, angel?" It was most definitely Dimmock. Who else would be so interested in him? He had noticed a few weeks ago the loçnging glances the other DS threw at him from times to times, and Greg had realized he might be… interested in going in a relationship with him. Which was most flattering, and almost tempting, but Greg was married… Although his marriage was not so happy as it had once been… Shaking his head to get rid of these parasite thoughts, Greg sighed and got back to what his angel, yes definitely Dimmock, was saying.

 

"Do you really think I'm going to give it to you? If you want my help in this case" the voice was becoming more business like "you will have to accept my remaining anonymous"

 

"Wait, Angie, you said case?" Greg was growing more interested.

 

"Yes, why else would I be speaking to you?" the voice seemed genuinely surprised.

 

"I dunno… Cos' you're Dimmock?"

 

"I am not your colleague" Angel sounded quite annoyed by this second mention of the man. "Although it appears you would have preferred me to be so"

 

Was Angie… Offended? Greg would have to think about that later.

 

"C'mon, phantom, tell me what you've been intending to…" Greg softened his voice a bit, trying to make the unknown man comfortable again.

 

"Well,…" His voice was soft, too… "I know this rapt case is at a dead end, but you can find more evidence in the child's chamber: the man who kidnapped him left footprints. And he is closer than you can imagine… I need you to fix it before dawn."

 

"Are you ordering me now? Are you in charge of the Yard or something like that?"

 

The fact it could be the DI or even his superiors occurred to him, and he thought he had not made too much a fool of himself.

 

"I am HELPING you." The earnestness in his voice was proof enough for Greg, whose instinct told him he could trust this man with his life.

 

"Well, in that case thanks. How can I help you back?

 

"Letting me talk to you again? I'll be back next week, same place, same hour…" He sounded truly enthusiastic about it, though trying to hide it. Greg decided not to embarrass the man who had probably saved the life of a child.

 

"Until next week, can I have a name to call you?"

 

"My intervention must remain entirely unknown, Gregory. Until next week, I quite like how Angel sounds…" The slight note of amusement was back.

 

"Goodbye, Angel."

 

He was already gone.


	3. Pub introspection

« Cos' you know, Meg, I never really thought she would do that. She would threaten me, send me to sleep on the sofa, but I never, ever thought she would REALLY leave me… Dammit, I wasn't even surprised when she told me she had cheated on me with the PE teacher, but I hoped she was telling me so to say sorry, to apologize and beg me to start everything once more »

 

Greg's voice was getting less and less clear, which was in a way the aim of that evening. Meg Giry, his best friend, had taken him to the pub to make him forget his recent break up with his wife.

 

« And she had to do it just at the moment everything was fine at work… Greg Lestrade, hero of the Lannister kidnapping, getting drunk because his wife has left him… » Greg went on, half shouting half weeping.

 

« Come on, Greg, everything isn't that bad… »

 

« She told me » he followed not listening to a word Meg had said « I worked too much. I think it's that bloody case that made me earn all this publicity that was the ultimate push she needed to get rid of me."

 

" I am quite pitiful, am I not?" he added wryly after a pause.

 

"Listen, Greg. I know you didn't love her that much. It's all pride, mate! If you remember, you told me 2 weeks ago you didn't even mind she was sleeping with another man. Plus now you're back on the market, and we are going to find you someone to rebound!" Meg wasn't just a little drunk also.

 

"Who would have me? Listen." He started speaking a little less loud. "I think I might have gone mad…"

 

"What?! Seriously, there's no point in getting mad. After all, a break up could happen to everyone…"

 

"No no no, not that. I've been hearing…" His voice became even more secretive. "Angels"

 

"What the fuck are you saying? Come on, back to my flat, you must have had a little too much tonight…"

 

"Well, more precisely, I've heard one Angel once. A voice right from the heavens…"

 

"Wait there, Greg. Were you… under the influence of illicit substances?" Meg asked, uncertain.

 

"No, I'm in the fucking Met, how could I be?" Greg was quite annoyed, seeing Meg wouldn't listen properly. Plus he had been thinking about it. Late hours, stress, his wife having an affair… He was quite aware this could lead to hallucinations. But still, how could he have heard a voice telling him the key to his current case? Subconscious, that sort of things… Yet he had had to admit it: he WANTED this meeting to have been real.

 

"No, couldn't have imagined it… It seemed real, and I know how a hallucination appears."

 

"So a bloke talked to you through the door or something like that, if I understand well."

 

"Quite right. That is, I heard a chap talking to me and he helped me in this bloody case. Yes, the one that got my wife leaving me and me promoted to DI…"

 

Greg was back to his former mood, complaining and drinking. But Meg was now as attentive as could be after this evening.

 

"It doesn't seem like you, that… You know" she tried to reason him "angels don't really exist."

 

"Of course they don't. I'm not THAT drunk, you know. Yet, he can't know, Angie, but… When I was but a child, my father used to say that "l'ange de la Grande-Bretagne" would always look after us. He meant the PM, my dad, so confident in the government, but that man, he called himself the Angel of Britain… Yes, the Angel of Britain has visited me at last!" he added ironically.

 

"Just… You call him Angie?" Meg remained dumbfounded.

 

"Why wouldn't I? Met him for 5 minutes, helped me solve a case, I think I'm allowed to give him a nickname!"

 

"Ok, fine for the moment, but we're not finished with that topic… Just occurred to me"

 

She took a plotting tone "What if he WAS the PM? Or a member of the government?"

 

"Fuck, you're kidding me! I think I should have recognized his voice, I've seen him on TV… Yet he still could be one of those mysterious unofficial shush-it's-top-secret men…"

 

"And what if he was the child's kidnapper?"

 

"Nope, didn't sound like that."

 

"What…"

 

"I don't know, I just sort of happen to have an instinct on those matters… Most of the time, the only thing lacking is proof… And he gave me that." Greg sounded grateful and thoughtful, and he was quite at a loss indeed. Who was this man, why did he know that and why on earth would he tell HIM, of all the staff included?

 

"You don't happen to fancy him, do you?" Meg was amused by his suddenly changing features, which had become softer when speaking of his Angel. "He could be   
dangerous, you know!"

 

"Course not! Well, maybe a little. Dangerous, I mean, not me fancying him" He blushed, and knew Meg had seen it. After all, she knew he was interested in men as well as women, and that being split with his wife… Well, he would start being on the watch again. "Come on, I have only heard his voice! How could I, even if I wanted to?"

 

"Oh, I knew it! You fancy that Angel of yours! And what will happen when you meet him?"

 

Greg darkened again.

 

"Suppose we'll never know. I shan't meet him. Can't. Won't. He doesn't want to reveal his identity."

 

"Well, you've only just met, after all…"

 

Here there was a pause, and Greg was already thinking about how he could bring his Angel to meet him for real.

 

"So, you call him Angie? …"


	4. Greg negotiates (or at least he tries)

Here he was at last. The week that had elapsed was nothing but the most beautiful nightmare he ever had. His meeting with his personal angel, his promotion, his break up… That was a bit too much for seven days, wasn't it? But now, it was midnight again at the office. This time, nobody had been silly enough to ask him why he stayed so late: as DI, he had discovered that paperwork as a DS was a simple walk beside the river compared to… that pile of documents and … things he had to fill and sign… It simply had no end. But that was not the reason he stayed. Well, he would have anyway, but tonight was the appointed day of his meeting with his Angel.

 

Suddenly, he didn't feel so sure about his excitement for the event he had been waiting for all week: what if Angie had changed his mind? What if he never wanted to speak to him again? What if he had never intended to follow their alliance? What if it was a one-time thing? What if…

 

"Hello, Gregory."

 

All his uncertainties vanished suddenly when he heard that voice, and it seemed like satin against his skin just to be listening to him.

 

"Hi, Angie!"

 

He hoped he didn't sound too eager, maybe that would scare his Angel off. By the way, when exactly had he started referring to that man as his Angel?

 

"You look tired."

 

Angel was trying to sound indifferent, but Greg hoped the slight worry he had perceived was for real.

 

"Why, thank you…"

 

"It suits you."

 

Wait a minute, was Angie implying that he'd like to tire him? There was no way this was an innuendo and not the fantasy of his own devious mind, was there?

 

"… Well, I wanted to thank you! You know, you helped us and the family will never know who to thank that for, but what you did was great anyway."

 

"Immaterial. I had the occasion to help some of my co-citizens and there is no wonder I did it."

 

"Yes, that's coz' you're a good man."

 

"…" Greg could swear that if he could see his Angel right now, he would be blushing.

 

"And I was promoted DI thanks to you, you know."

 

"I was informed of this consequence. I offer you my congratulations, as well as my condolences for the unfortunate repercussions on your personal life."

 

"So you control CCTV and you were informed of a promotion that was made public this morning… Who exactly are you?"

 

What's more, that meant his Angel spied on his love life… But that was good, very good indeed.

 

"Gregory" His voice sounded like that which is usually used for impatient and spoiled children. "I thought we had already discussed that. My identity shall remain secret, and before you ask, no, I will not reveal you my name, whatever motive you declare."

 

Why had this "we" to sound so delicious?

 

"Just how did you know that was my next question?!"

 

"That was quite simple to determine. The stiffness in your shoulders suggested you were about to tackle an issue of some importance and the way your eyes went from the camera to your desk that you thought you were going to face reluctance, yet it was important enough that you decided to try anyway, and you have obviously been very straightforward since the beginning of our acquaintance."

 

Okay, lesson number 1 of the evening: never underestimate an angel. They may have wings but they are so cunning and intelligent (and have a gorgeous voice, don't forget that) and they know about everything concerning us, poor earthlings basking in their glory.

 

"… Wow… I suppose everybody who has ever met you has already told you, but you're amazing…" Greg said in awe.

 

"This particular aspect of my personality was never brought to my knowledge, however I am glad you are appreciative of such a simple deduction. But I am afraid it would be expected of me to show my satisfaction by soothing your very legitimate curiosity, which is not in my power."

 

Greg took a long breath, trying to calm the overwhelming fear that had taken him. He really didn't want to lose his Angel because of his well-known inability to control his emotions.

 

"So I have to say thanks for your help and farewell?" Well, maybe that was a little over-eager.

 

"If you would wish so… I had thought our partnership could extend to future cases where my help might be useful, but if so is your will, it will be surrendered to."

 

"Is that a posh way to say: let's work together?" Hope had risen in Greg's heart, and there was no way it would not be broken if this was taken from him.

 

"I fancy it could be expressed like that… I had considered giving you some information I might have better access to and help you improve your observation skills." The hint of amusement that seemed to be characteristic of Angie's mood when speaking to Greg was back.

 

"Then that's a bloody big yes. You don't realize how helpful and wonderful you are, do you?"

 

"…"

 

Oh, that was the silent blush again…

 

"Then let's say each week, same time, same place, except if you actually have another place where you can talk to me, and I want the right to some extra consultations if there's an important case." Greg was not so naïve as to let his Angel be off with an immaterial promise.

 

"Your wish is my command…"

 

"Is there absolutely no chance I'll ever see you for real?"

 

"You'll hear me, that's more than most people get…" Greg genuinely hoped he wasn't imagining the regret that voice conveyed in those few words.

 

"Fuck! I mean that's disappointing…"

 

A few moments of silence passed, neither men wanting to end the conversation.

 

"Anyway, I very much look forward to our next encounter, and you'll be my personal tutor then…"

 

If he had expressed this fantasy out loud, this was utter shite…

 

"And I look forward to teaching you many things…"

 

Maybe this was okay, if the fantasy was shared…

 

"Good night, Gregory, and until next week…"

 

The voice was already gone when Greg whispered: "If I had a TARDIS, all I would do is go right here, in seven days time…"


	5. Mycroft gets protective

In the name of the Bard, what had he done? Had he really agreed to weekly meetings with a copper? To… He barely dared to even think of it… Teach him how to investigate in the Holmes manner… On the other hand, it was HIS cop. Gregory Lestrade was his, whatever stupid laws had passed concerning owning human beings during the XIXth century, the witty, dashing man was his.

 

How had it all started again? Yes… He'd been concerned about the Met's efficiency for quite some time, and he'd been having an eye on the ones who kept an eye on the city. The guardians of the citizens… And there had been this energetic, good-looking copper, with hints of grey in his dark hair, investigating with an unusual recklessness. Those beautiful chocolate brown eyes of his had done the rest, and Mycroft hadn't been able to help trying to give him some advice concerning his current case.

 

But he had got emotionally involved, and that was not good for his work…

 

Mycroft sighed, trying to relax in his personal armchair at the Diogenes club, the only place where he could possibly try to think properly between two meetings, between a war and a minister to fire. But today, nothing seemed to be able to lead his thoughts away from the mysterious DI, who could trust a voice and find a murderer with the same ease Mycroft never seemed to reach.

 

But Mycroft would never be able to reveal his identity to Greg: his job couldn't allow it. As strong as his desire to get more acquainted with the man was, it could not trespass the boundaries set by The Work.

 

He was going to have to satisfy himself with a few conversations and, hopefully, that would be enough for his Gregory too. Anyway, he wasn't going to let him decide on what would satisfy him. Soon to be divorced, there was the risk that he would be the target of the young women (and men) whom Mycroft had seen eyeing the recently promoted DI on the CCTV. But a few threats and some, let us say unfortunate circumstances should discourage those attempts.

 

Now he just had to make a phone call, and all would be settled to ascertain that the man who had seemed to control so utterly and skilfully their second conversation would be under his protection.

 

"Hello, Anthea Giry, it's MH. Would you be so kind as to improve Gregory Lestrade's security to level 3? And from now on, I want a report about his career, cases and personal life, including who tries to befriend him, every day on my desk. Understood?"

 

His business-like voice, now that this had been dealt with, softened as he added, almost as an afterthought.

 

"Thank you dear. I means a lot to me"

 

Yes, the DI was his, and this had to be seen to.

 

\----****----

 

The weeks went on, and Mycroft started to teach his dearest cop how to properly deal with a crime scene. He showed him the obvious and the implicit, and the Angel of Britain was astonished to discover the extent of the DI's knowledge in certain fields. That is to say, human beings.

 

Mycroft knew their motives and the way they acted, but he was totally hopeless at actually feeling like them. Of course, he knew how to copy their ways, he was quite brilliant at that (for goodness sake, he was a politician!) but it was all a façade.

 

Gregory told him it was the fact that he thought so differently that made him so good at deducing people. This man was definitely the only one to see his lack of social skills as a quality.

 

Their tone of conversation alternated between seductive, admiring, determined for Gregory and explanatory, amused, admiring and blushing for Mycroft.

 

Mycroft spent hours watching him, every step he made, every breath he took, and his fascination never faltered.

 

They were building a strong friendship, both hoping it could become something more.

 

Gregory Lestrade was Mycroft's.

 

\----****----

 

Four months passed, and then, there was Sherlock Holmes.


	6. Sherlock, act I

Okay, this was _so_ not happening. There was a junkie at his crime scene.

 

 

Brilliant.

 

 

Just totally bloody brilliant.

 

 

« Just tell me again, what are you doing here ? »

 

 

« I was passing by and suddenly, in a wonderful and obviously ridiculous attempt to try to raise the absurdly low level of crime solving in this city, I decided to tell you how the murder was perpetrated by the _uncle_. Obvious, really. »

 

 

« You do realize you are high as a fucking kite on a bloody crime scene? » Greg was more astonished by the unawareness and cleverness of the man than angry or offended. Indeed, his deductions, once explained, appeared most logical and utterly believable. And Greg felt, deep down in his guts, that this man had a strong potential.

 

 

« Maybe I wouldn’t be high if everyone wasn’t sooooo boring and useless. »

 

 

“Okay, kid, listen to me. You seem to be right, but I need the forensics to get evidence of that. Meanwhile, you’ll have to remain in custody because…”

 

 

“What? NO, I have places to be!”

 

 

“Because you are at a BLOODY CRIME SCENE!”

 

 

“But I gave you the murderer…” The junkie, Sherlock Holmes (his parents must be sadists or lunatics, and Greg bent for the latter given their son’s behaviour) was almost whining before Greg.

 

 

“Sorry, but I assure you it shouldn’t be long if you’ve told me the truth.”

 

 

Greg knew he should be suspicious, or annoyed at the interference and the arrogance of Sherlock, but he couldn’t help feeling sorry for the young man, another one throwing every possibility away by using. And he had been incredibly helpful.

 

 

And… Well, maybe Sherlock Holmes reminded him of Angie. A tiny little bit. With this capacity to deduct everything from very little evidence, they had a similar way of thinking. That was the main reason why Greg wanted to help Sherlock.

 

 

“I may have a proposition for you…” Greg started.

 

 

“Is it of a sexual nature?” Sherlock asked in a detached way.

 

 

“WHAT?!”

 

 

“Your pupils are dilated and your heartbeat, increased, has made you blush. You are sexually aroused.”

 

 

Oh, shit, this was getting worse and worse… Now he couldn’t even _think_ of his Angel without getting flustered.

 

 

“No, that’s…” Greg breathed once and decided to ignore the comment “I want you to consider consulting for the Met. You’re clever, I can see that much, and you also liked solving this case. You could do that on a regular basis, as soon as you’re clean. And before you ask, _that_ would be the only unchangeable condition.”

 

 

Sherlock Holmes thought for a few seconds, before answering slowly.

 

 

“You would provide me with those puzzles, even though I have been insulting your staff, associates and yourself for an hour? Why would you do that?” The junkie seemed strangely vulnerable, and utterly clueless as to why anyone would be kind to him.

 

 

“Because, you’re wasting your potential, and I prefer to solve my cases with a prat rather than leave them unsolved on my own.”

 

 

“So, deal?” Greg added.

 

 

“Deal.”

 

 

They shook hands, neither of them paying attention to the CCTV camera turned their way.

 

 

 

\----****----

 

 

 

No, this was impossible. Sherlock was going to pay for this!

 

 

Mycroft had only asked for one thing, one thing to be totally his. And Sherlock wanted to take his Gregory from him. He had seen them _shake hands_. And Gregory’s body language had showed an interest that was not to please Mycroft and had been acknowledged by Sherlock.

 

 

While he had not even been able to look at the DI in the eye in _four months of acquaintance_.

 

 

Oh, Sherlock was going to regret this. There he was, just on time.

 

 

The door of Mycroft’s office opened.

 

 

“Yes, Fatcroft, what is this all about again? Is this the usual Sherlock-stop-the-drugs thing? Because I will, you know. I have found someone willing to provide me with _cases_ to keep me entertained. Lestrade has…”

 

 

“No!” Mycroft snapped. “You will cease any interaction between Detective Inspector Lestrade and yourself this very moment. I am not willing to let you do as you please on the matter at hand. I cannot explain the causes of this decision to you, but rest assured I wouldn’t oppose your wishes if not for the strongest reasons.”

 

 

“Oh, but my dear brother, who told you that you had any influence on my behaviour? I am not forced to comply to your orders.”

 

 

“Brother mine, I would have thought we were beyond threats…”

 

 

“I will not obey, Mycroft. I am now a consulting detective, and working with Lestrade, whether you like it or not!” Sherlock slammed the door with a supposedly impressive effect of his coat.

 

 

Oh, Lord! Mycroft had only succeeded in adding interest to his association with the DI, making it a symbol of Sherlock’s independence.

 

 

Now he would be forced to oppose this dalliance from Gregory’s side, but his Angel persona couldn’t possibly do this…

 

 

“Anthea, I need you to go speak to Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade…”

 

 

 

 

\----****----

 

 

 

“Mr Lestrade?”

 

 

“Detective Inspector Lestrade, what can I do for you?”

 

 

“I have a message for you.”

 

 

Greg was getting interested.

 

 

“And who’s it from?”

 

 

“Mycroft Holmes would like you to know that you should remain away from Sherlock Holmes. You are not a suitable acquaintance for his younger brother, and, should you not take his word in account, he will act upon it.”

 

 

“What the hell? Bugger, another Holmes… You do realize you have just threatened a police officer on his OWN BLOODY CRIME SCENE!”

 

 

“Well, if I may speak on my behalf, I told Mr Holmes it was a bad idea, but he is a powerful man, and I would advise you to listen to him…”

 

 

“Miss… ?”

 

 

“Anthea.”

 

 

“Miss Anthea, you can tell this Mycroft Holmes that I will do as I please and that if he has something to tell me he can bloody well come himself and talk to me! On these words, good day, I have crimes to solve and paperwork to fill!”

 

 

Greg went away, dumbfounded. He turned back to listen to the young woman calling after him.

 

 

“Goodbye, Mr Lestrade, and listen to your Angel!”

 

 

Fuck, this was really weird. She couldn’t possibly know… Could she?

 

 

 


	7. Sherlock, act II

 

Greg sat back in his armchair, silently waiting for his Angel to call him, not even bothering trying to appear busy. There was nobody around the office and it had been a long, so very long day… Was there no rule about the people accepted at a crime scene? There were signs and barriers but it seemed that all this couldn’t prevent the Holmeses from sticking their noses where they wanted. Not that this Mycroft had come himself, sending his minions to do the legwork…

 

 

Now all he wanted was to forget about that talking to Angie. Maybe tonight they could just converse, on whatever subject came o their minds.

 

 

Actually, the lessons took place, and Greg had had the occasion to add many a tip to his police education, but their meetings would end talking odds and ends, following their fancy. Nothing about Angie’s personal life, but he was becoming more and more relaxed, telling Greg about the politics –obviously his area of expertise- and even some anecdotes of his childhood.

 

 

“Detective Inspector.” The tone was cold, icy, so unlike any previous greeting that Greg was immediately worried.

 

 

“Is there something wrong? Are you ill?”

 

 

“Nothing quite so dramatic. I simply feel our acquaintanceship might no longer be desirable.”

 

 

Greg felt himself become pale as a sheet. His Angel was breaking their not-a-relationship-but-then-what-should-I-call-it. He was a failure at keeping a stable relationship.

 

 

“You… Wha-Why?”

 

 

“I think you must feel that thanks to your new associate you will be able to dispense yourself from my input in your work. Ergo there shall be no reason to pursue our meetings as they are only work-related.”

 

 

The cold tone almost prevented Greg from realizing the heart-warming and infuriating meaning of these words.

 

 

“You speaking of Sherlock?”

 

 

“I have been informed it appears to be his name.”

 

 

“But, surely you can’t think I was gonna replace you?”

 

 

“As I said, my role being very similar to him…”

 

 

Greg interrupted “No! I mean, you’re my friend and you’ve been helping me all those months and I l… I like working with you and talking to you and let me finish this because what I mean is Sherlock is clever but I picked him up mainly because he’ll be able to stay away from the drugs and I couldn’t let him continue like that he doesn’t deserve it and he’ll ruin himself but I can help him…”

 

 

It was Mycroft’s turn to interrupt: “I fear I have no time left tonight, Detective Inspector.”

 

 

“Well, I suppose I don’t have much of a choice so I’ll talk to you next week but don’t think I’ll let you shut me away like this Angie. You’re my friend and I won’t stand it.”

 

 

His Angel had already gone.

 

 

\----****----

 

 

 

Mycroft was seated in his office, watching, once more -this was definitely becoming a custom- the feedback from the CCTV which showed him unpleasant images of his DI and his brother, together. He had asked but for one thing, and it was taken from him. But now that his anger had calmed, he decided to actually listen to what was being said, instead of letting his ire and envy cloud his judgement. Well, after all, he had already spent 2 hours watching them with the sound off. But they were _locked in Gregory’s office_.

 

 

Maybe their relationship could remain purely professional… Couldn’t it?

 

 

He turned his attention back to the screen and turned the audio device on.

 

 

“Okay, Sherlock, so we do agree on these terms:

 

- _I_ call you when I need you and the reverse is _not_ going to happen.

 

-You are not getting paid, but you have access to the files you request for as long as someone from the Yard granted you this permission.

 

-You do not remove evidence and you respect the integrity of the crime scene.

 

-Most important: you do not use or we cease interaction and…”

 

 

“And I’m bored, but maybe that would be preferable to my current level of boredom which you have considerably increased in the last minutes.” Sherlock pouted, in a way that reminded Mycroft of his cute seven-year-old brother when he had refused to play pirates with him.

 

 

“C’mon, I’ve told I just have to be sure we agree, don’t be daft!” Gregory answered, his good-natured character not preventing a little annoyance from piercing in his words.

 

 

“I must admit I would have thought your little brain, tiny as it is, could understand my superior capacities allow me to enter into a tacit agreement with my inferiors without bothering with the use of sentences.”

 

 

“Which I understand, your Highness, but I’m mainly worried you’re going back to the drugs as soon as I don’t have enough cases to keep you _entertained._ ”

 

 

“Pedestrian.”

 

 

Now the look of irritation was clear on Gregory’s face, and in a risible move of affection, Mycroft grinned at his screen. It was a _good_ irritation. Maybe, maybe he had misunderstood what Gregory had told him 3 days before…

 

 

“You should be grateful I’m willing to help you. I could leave you to your problems.” Gregory grunted.

 

 

“But you won’t.” Sherlock stated. “So since we agree on that, I’ll leave you to it. Places to be, and all that.”

 

 

His brother vaguely waved at the DI and exited the screen.

 

 

“Oh God, I can’t wait to tell Angie…”

 

 

Yes, definitely _good_ irritation!

 

 

“Oh, shit, forgot he wouldn’t talk to me for a moment… And now I’m speaking alone in my office, my life is getting better and better…” There was a touch of bitterness but also, and mostly, sadness. A sadness too profound to be about a mere ally not even necessary anymore. He’d said they were friends, after all…

 

 

Dear Lord, now he had to apologize… Mycroft had almost forgotten his own inconsiderate behaviour in the glow of the revelation: Gregory seemed to… _care_ about him.

 

 

 

\----****----

 

 

“Gregory.”

 

 

“Angie! I… What… It’s not Tuesday!” Gregory sounded really astonished.

 

 

“I wanted to apologize for my behaviour. It would appear my reaction was founded on erroneous premises and therefore irrelevant. I would be very grateful to you if you could consider deleting this event from your memory.” Mycroft tried to sound confident but he sounded emotional and whining to his own ears, eliciting a frown and a mental slap on the arm.

 

 

“What?!”

 

 

“You know I do loathe repeating myself.”

 

 

“Well, just to clarify, was that Angel’s translation for ‘sorry I overreacted’?”

 

 

“If you wish to express yourself in such a common manner.” The words were harsh but the tone was fond and slightly mocking. It seemed Mycroft couldn’t help his softening when confronted to his Gregory.

 

“In that case, apologises accepted. I should probably be mad at you for being such a bastard and not letting me explain that because I have another help doesn’t mean I don’t need you, but I was so worried I’m just goin’ to forget about it. I suppose I can’t resist your charms.”

 

 

Oh my… Gregory was back to _teasing_ him. Mycroft hadn’t even considered the meeting could go so smoothly. But he couldn’t focus on that right now, unless he should miss some of the words this heavenly voice was addressing him.

 

 

“Suppose I don’t need to tell you ‘bout my day, with all this CCTV of yours! Well, I’ve come to an arrangement with Sherlock and he’ll help us on some of the tricky cases…”

 

 

Now Mycroft was truly lost for the world… When Gregory had said we, it sounded like _we_ and not we, like the two of them and not the Yard. And if Gregory told him about Sherlock, he couldn’t have any other intention about his brother, or he would have kept it secret.

 

 

 

\----****----

 

 

 

Sherlock was thus allowed to work with Greg Lestrade and Mycroft was wondering more and more about this extraordinary ability of his DI’s to awaken the best in people. He had succeeded in making Sherlock see the waste he was making of his abilities and his baby brother was on the way to recovery.

 

 

Life went on, and Gregory listened until all of them met one Doctor Watson. Then the music started and the curtain rose.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yes, until then it was kind of a big introduction and now the story really begins. In cas you're wondering, Sherlock is not Raoul in the PTO plot, he would more likely be a mix of Mr Firmin and Philippe de Chagny (who is in the novel but not the musical). Thanks so much for reading and don't hesitate to leave kudos or comments, they're most valued!


	8. John Watson arrives, or does he return?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas!

 

 

“Lestrade!” The voice resonated, deep and commanding.

 

 

“What now, Sherlock? I’m bloody busy-wait, no, I’m bloody full stop!” Greg’s attempt at witticism was swept away by an impatient Sherlock waving his hand towards a short, blond man, who seemed somehow familiar… No it couldn’t possibly be…

 

 

“This is my flatmate, …”

 

 

“John Watson, yes.”

 

 

“Oh!” Sherlock scowled, unhappy. “It would appear you’ve met before.”

 

 

“Sherlock!” The previously spoken of John interrupted. “When you said Lestrade, you actually meant _Greg_ Lestrade?!”

 

 

The two men were now staring intensely at each other, completely ignoring the pouting consulting detective. After a few moments, they stepped at the same time and hugged tightly.

 

 

“Greg.”

 

 

“John.”

 

 

“It’s been a long time.”

 

 

“Indeed. I’ve never forgotten you, my dear friend.”

 

 

“Me neither. Nor have I forgotten your father. He was so kind to me. I don’t know what I’d have done without the two of you.”

 

 

An unhappy snort interrupted them, and the two men stepped apart. However, John’s hand continued casually brushing over Greg’s coat once in a while as happens with people used to intimacy.

 

 

“I see. You obviously knew each other in your childhood. Your families were close, and at John’s father’s death, Lestrade’s father helped John and especially Harry. You’re what people commonly call _friends_.”

 

 

“Wow, you must really be disturbed by Johnny, cos’ here are quite a few mistakes. We were teens, and I think we were a bit more than friends, don’t you think John dear?”

 

 

“That we were, Greggy!” They exchanged an amused glance over Sherlock’s bewildered face.

 

 

“What do you mean, more? As in, what, family? No, I would have noticed… What then?”

 

 

“As in, boyfriends, Sherlock.” There was a certain fondness in the way John spoke to Sherlock, Greg remarked. He smiled at the thought, and his grin extended upon seeing the reddening of Sherlock’s cheeks.

 

 

“Oh.”

 

 

“…”

 

 

“Oh, hell, Sherlock Holmes, bloody Sherlock Holmes, _speechless_! John Hamish Watson, I could kiss you for that!”

 

 

“Well then, I think I’ll do just that.” John winked at his friend of old, and got closer to peck him on the lips. He then remained close a few seconds longer, whispering in a hot breath against Greg’s nostalgic smile. “A reminder of the old times, Greggy dear…”

 

 

John continued, ignoring the wide-eyed look on Sherlock’s face (which was quite epic, to speak the truth) and those of, well, the DI’s whole team.

 

 

“Come on, Greggy, let’s go get a pint together some time. Ya know, catchin’ up and all that… Why not tonight?”

 

 

Greg didn’t even have to check his schedule to know this would not do and he smiled apologetically.

 

 

“Sorry, Johnny boy, I got an appointment tonight…”

 

 

“Oh. That a date?” John asked, appearing taken aback.

 

 

“Nah…” Greg answered wistfully. “Don’t think he’s _that_ interested in me…”

 

 

There was such sadness in his eyes John couldn’t help wanting to cheer him up, and he got back to the flirting tone that had always been their personal way of communicating.

 

 

“Need an easy lay to forget him?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

 

 

“Doctor Watson, now you got your degree, you have to know I’m as much of a whovian as ever, so if I were to take you up on that offer, you should be warned…”

 

 

“Get a room.” Sherlock mumbled, sulking and at a loss in such a conversation. For heaven’s sake, he was married to his work, how was he supposed to cope when caught between two men so obviously… trying to seduce each other…

 

 

“Well, actually, that was the plan, now you say it.” John responded good-naturedly.

 

 

“Quick as always, Johnny, but don’t you think you’ll get away with a one-night stand!”

 

 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, honey! You’ll be out of the bed before my endorphin level has got down, you charming man! And I’ll have to marry an old widow to gain my virtue back!” John feigned swooning.

 

 

“Hey, damsel in distress, do not fret, for Sherlock the knight will save the naïve maid that you are from my ravenous arms… Now won’t you, Sherlock?”

 

 

Sherlock looked to his left and right, as if searching for another Sherlock Greg might have been talking to.

 

 

“I am deleting this conversation immediately. I do not need to know about the sex life of my flatmate and my Scotland Yard passcode, especially together. Oh no, I am deleting this mental image immediately. I said immediately you stupid brain!”

 

 

Sherlock stalked off, leaving two quite bemused men behind his swirling coat.

 

 

“So, about tonight’s date, who’s the lucky guy?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry about all that Johnstrade, we get back to Mycroft right after ;)


	9. Mycroft is not pleased

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Tortue-Souris and her sister Pauline, who reminded me to post it ^^

Mycroft closed his eyes and thought : « Yes, this has got to be a dream, a very bad dream like Sherlock used to have, now I shall open my eyes and things shall go back to normal because this is a damn dream and only that. »

 

He opened his eyes and on the screen there were only Sherlock’s profile and Gregory’s back. Blast, he must have been working a little too much lately, it wasn’t doing him any good if this oh-so-real hallucination was anything to go by. A stranger, who would correspond to Gregory’s standards of what he considered “handsome”, if his files were correct, was being introduced to him.

 

What a relief however, that it was only a dream…

 

Wait a minute, Sherlock looked uncomfortable, which was _not_ in the usual range of emotions of his proud brother, and Gregory was still, unnaturally so… Maybe he was hurt, and with his stupid hallucinations, Mycroft hadn’t seen anything! Maybe it was already too late!

 

Mycroft already had his hand on the phone on his desk to demand an ambulance be called for his Gregory when a detail caught his attention: were those hands on Greg’s shoulders?

 

Mycroft looked at his screen, more focused than ever. Noooooo. No. This was just a dream, Mycroft closed his eyes once more, but when he opened them the offending hands were still there, and when he changed the angle of the camera… Yes, there he was, the silly good-looking little soldier, _hugging_ his Gregory in front of the whole team of his detective.

 

Mycroft had his hand once more on the phone to have the little man arrested for harassment or public indecency or whatever would be necessary to save the DI from this most physical and unwanted invasion of physical space, when he realized that Gregory was smiling after they had broken apart. No, this was not happening! This was his smile, the one that made the corners of his eyes crinkle and that had until then been only for his Angel…

 

And then the intruder kissed Gregory.

 

Everything after that passed in a blur.

 

\----****----

 

John had had quite an eventful day. After all, he had agreed to share a flat with a mad and good-looking man who was married to his work (yes, Doctor Watson, you had to go and find the only attractive workaholic in the whole city) and he’d seen his former love, his first love, his dear Greggy boy, whom he’d thought he’d never hear from again after life had thrown them apart…

 

A strange noise interrupted this stream of thought and he didn’t really consider what he was doing until he found himself standing in an abandoned warehouse, before a handsome man (wait, didn’t that make too much handsome men for one day? There was only so much a man could bear before swooning), yet he seemed for some reason, quite displeased with the doctor who didn’t have the remotest idea who that was.

 

“What are your intentions towards Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade?”

 

“Erm… Hello? Isn’t that what people are supposed to say when they meet someone?”

 

“I shall not repeat my inquiry. Answer now.” The strange man replied.

 

“And may I ask what business this is of yours?” John was quite astonished-frightened-amused. Yep, he was all that.

 

“This is of little consequence. What are your intentions towards Gregory?”

 

“Erm… First, did he tell you exactly how much he hates when anybody calls him that?”

 

The stranger seemed to pale at that statement.

 

“And otherwise, except if you’re his boyfriend or something, I’m not gonna reveal my private life to anyone!”

 

Now he got to an interesting shade of red. And then he started to stammer. John was a bit confused. He’d got kidnapped and now he was supposed to… Help his kidnapper get his ideas straight?

 

“Listen, I’ve had a long day, so if we could get to the point… What is it you wanted to know?”

 

The man in the suit seemed to get back in control of his facial features. And he actually looked threatening.

 

“If you hurt Gregory, I will ensure that you don’t get a chance to tell anyone and that you will be kept at a low-level job for the rest of your miserable life.”

 

“Well, the whole speech would have been a bit more convincing if you hadn’t blushed like a teenager first, you know!” John was actually starting to be genuinely frightened-amused, especially as the stranger’s umbrella (why on earth he had an umbrella on such a sunny day, he would never know) was now tapping against the concrete floor of the warehouse.

 

The other looked dumbfounded. He apparently wasn’t used to people talking back.

 

“Anthea will accompany you on your journey back to Sherlock’s flat. By the way, would you be so kind as to tell him Mummy says hello?” The purely rhetorical question was followed by the strange man’s exit.

 

John proceeded to exclaim to an empty room:

 

“Are you Sherlock’s brother?”

 

\----****---- 

 

Mycroft had left his favourite place of abduction upset and at a loss as to what to do. The soldier had _teased_ him about his behavior towards Gregory, and that was NOT acceptable.

 

Measures had to be taken.

 

He called Anthea, hoping she was free from John Watson’s presences, and started talking immediately after she picked up.

 

“My dear Miss Giry, code Watchful. We have an abduction to plan.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jealous Sherlock and murder to come :)


End file.
